DISAPPOINTMENT
My young friend Bobby (now in the early thirteens) has been making his plans for the Christmas holidays. He communicated them to me in a letter from school:—
"I am going to write an opera in the holidays with a boy called Short, a very great and confident friend of mine here. I am doing the words and Short is doing the music. We have already got the title; it is called 'Disappointment.'"
Last week, on his return to town, he came to see me at my club, and when the waiter had brought in drinks, and Bobby had refused a cigar, I lighted up and prepared to talk shop. His recent discovery that I write too leads him to treat me with more respect than formerly.
"Now then," I said, "tell me about it. How's it going on?"
"Oo, I haven't done much yet," said Bobby. "But I've got the plot."
"Let's have it."
Bobby unfolded it rapidly.